


From the Shadows

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-18
Updated: 2006-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have no clue if Peri will like this at all, but I wanted to do something with Elijah and possibly with Billy and somehow it turned into this rather angsty smut fest.  *shrugs*</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Shadows

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[advent](http://v-angelique.livejournal.com/tag/advent), [fic](http://v-angelique.livejournal.com/tag/fic)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **Advent Fics Day 16 and 17** _

Series: The Very Slashy Advent Calendar  
Title: From the Shadows  
Author: Viktoria Angelique ([](http://v-angelique.livejournal.com/profile)[**v_angelique**](http://v-angelique.livejournal.com/))  
Pairing: EW, DM/BB  
Rating: R  
Length: Ficlet  
Disclaimer: True? No.  
Written for: [](http://perianella.livejournal.com/profile)[**perianella**](http://perianella.livejournal.com/)  
Summary: I have no clue if Peri will like this at all, but I wanted to do something with Elijah and possibly with Billy and somehow it turned into this rather angsty smut fest. *shrugs*

Elijah casts a few furtive glances around in the hall, but no one is there to notice his presence—at least, not yet. He slides easily unseen into the coat closet, arranging himself among the woollens with their mothball smell, just recently brought down from the attic. Sure enough, then, right on cue, Dom and Billy tumble into the hall, seen easily from Elijah's hiding spot through the crack in the closet door. They don't notice it; they only have eyes for each other, and it isn't long before Billy is pressed against the wall in the out of the way part of the house, Dom sliding gracefully down his body to his knees.

Elijah wishes he could move like that, wonders if he should try yoga, get up every morning at six like Dom does and bend his body into shapes that should physically be impossible—if he could do that, would it be his bed Billy woke up in every morning?

But there's no use pondering impractical notions, and right now Elijah is very practical, has been planning this for weeks once he found out their special spot on accident, the place they go to snog or more in the middle of these drunken parties where no one is paying any attention. He is practical to the extreme as his thumb silently pops open the button fly, as his hand slides in past cotton briefs, pausing briefly to investigate the warm, moist quality of his skin and the coarse curls of pubic hair before continuing downward, cupping his cock with very little room for movement as he watches Billy's expression, watches every nuance.

Carefully, so carefully, Elijah pops open his belt and drops his jeans entirely, shifts his weight and balances with one hand on the wall in front of him, to the left of the door, his jeans constricting and limiting the spread of his legs where they are pooled around his knees. He traces the soft open mouth, the eyes aimed towards the ceiling, and he notices quite pointedly that Billy's eyes are not on Dom, that he could be thinking of someone else. Elijah is young; he knows that he is hardly desireable enough to be the object of someone like Billy's affections, someone rough and sweet at the same time, someone _mature._ He doesn't care, though, because he has this illicit pleasure, and he squeezes hard, strokes his length, palms and rolls his balls.

Billy is close, Elijah is closer—he holds back, though, watches Billy's eyes and his face and the tightness of the tiny muscles around his eyes and his jaw. Elijah knows before Dom does, knows when Billy is going to come, and he times his own release perfectly, silent, spurts of warm fluid coating his sweaty palm. He sucks absently at the cooling semen as they kiss, tenderly, with abandon. He looks away as he cleans his hand, and then he pulls up his jeans and waits for the hallway to be empty. This is all he has.


End file.
